


The Story of a Broken Boy

by 0NocturnaL_OwL0



Category: Original Work
Genre: Abuse, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Assault, Blood and Gore, Bullying, Child Abuse, Depression, Drowning, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/F, Fighting, Forced Prostitution, Friends With Benefits, Friends to Lovers, Gang Violence, Guns, Heavy Angst, Homelessness, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Kinks, M/M, Mason Needs A Hug, Murder, Non-Graphic Smut, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Part Sexual Assault, Pedophilia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Poverty, Slut Shaming, This sounds so dark, Torture, anger issues, general violence, im sorry mason, its gonna be good i promise, just a lil bit
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-27
Updated: 2020-12-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:42:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27741700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/0NocturnaL_OwL0/pseuds/0NocturnaL_OwL0
Summary: §WIP - will be edited§Mason Gaivés is a 19-year old man, with a life that could easily be described as "hell". Gangs, drugs, murder and death surround him daily, despite the fact that all he wants to do is protect his younger siblings from the horrors of poverty and life - and maybe admit his feelings to a certain blonde best friend of his. Chronically addicted to a number of drugs, tangled in a web of intrigues, hate and favoritism, he tries to make sense of his life and subsequent trauma.Join him on the helltrip that is his life, from the start of it's downfalls to the (hopefully) happy ending!
Relationships: Original Character/Original Character
Kudos: 4





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> heya ^^ 
> 
> if you clicked this story, i already can't thank you enoigh - Mason is my one and only, my best OC i have made thus far, so someone reading this alone makes my heart burst.
> 
> i hope you enjoy!

Mason stood, his hand shaking as he clutched the gun so tigthly his knuckles turned white from the force. His opponent stared back at him, the golden tooth shining in the low lantern light of Philadelphia's night. His hair was greasy, disgusting and sticking to his forehead, but he didn't seem to care.  
He knew why Kenny was here, but he didn't reveal that. 

„Put down the gun, Mason.“ The large man spoke, lazily looking down at the countless gold rings that adorned his fingers. Mason scoffed and continued to keep his gun in the air, aiming right at the man's face.

„I'm not the stupid kid I used to be, Kenny.“

Kenny raised an eyebrow at him, slicking back his greasy hair against his head – Mason threw up on his mouth at the fact that it apparently was his natural grease, and not some hair gel that most of the guys in this profession seemed to use religiously. Kenny crossed his arms and stared at Mason's gun, before his gaze went back to his face. „It's still not polite to hold a gun to my face when I just want to talk to you, Mason, boy. Put the fucking gun down. Now.“

Mason smirked and shook his head, adjusting the grip on his gun a little, keeping it aimed at Kenny's head, right between his eyes. It would kill him instantly, if Mason pulled the trigger now. But he wouldn't – yet, at least.

„It's just a safety precaution, Kenny. What the fuck do you want from me? I'm not up for conversation much, you know that right?“ Mason nodded towards the gun. „I've been a bit jumpy lately.“ Jumpy was an understatement, he was straight up paranoid. Every sound behind him made Mason flinch hard enough to have a stiff neck the next two hours. But Kenny didn't need to know that. Noone did. 

Kenny grinned again, the gold tooth almost blinding Mason – he wanted to rip it out of this guy's face so hard he screamed for his mother. „I'm just looking for some new...investments. And Bastiano didn't seem to care much when I asked about you, just said you were one of the strongest. So I need you on my team for a bit, Mason. Just a little scuffle with some guys who owe me money, you'll even get a part of it if you want some, promise!“ Kenny rubbed his fat neck and licked his lips at the thought of money. „You'll be in and out of there.“

Mason raised an eyebrow. 'In and out' meant one hell ton of murder when it came from Kenny, and at least one casualty with some broken bones – for some flavor. „How much money are you actually paying to hire me and my guys?“ 

„Those aren't your guys. They belong to Bastiano.“

„We don't belong to anyone in this fucking city. I'm as much of a leader as Bastiano is, I'm at least there. So... how much are ya paying?“

Kenny grimaced, lips pulled back like a dog as he snarled at him. His behavior paralleled that of a dog, so this grimace wasn't far from Mason's usual thought of Kenny.  
„50.000 bucks. You, Colin and Hannah.“ Kenny spat out, and then literally spat onto the ground in front of Mason's feet. Mason kept a straight face, and undid the safety slide on his gun with a blank expression, watching as Kenny's face fell.

Seeing someone feel the fear he felt was always rewarding, and Mason felt his blood rush in his veins at the sight of the slimy gang boss being afraid of him. „Mhm. Now give me one good reason I should put myself, Col and Hannah in harm's way because you gambled too much again, Kenny. I don't need your dirty fucking money.“

„H-hey now, Mason, you know me. Plus, Bastiano agreed to hiring you, so you.. you have to work for me. It's a fucking order from your Boss!“ Kenny was getting frantic now, the low light of the street lantern reflecting from the drops of sweat on his forehead. Mason chuckled, fake but at least it sounded sincere, and stepped closer, pressing the barrel of the gun against Kenny's forehead. He put his finger against the trigger, a silent threat that Kenny was sure to understand. 

And he did, even more droplets of sweat forming on his forehead, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly. He tried to step back and get his face away from the gun, but Mason followed suit – he did so until Kenny was backed against the wall of the alley they were standing in. Mason raised an eyebrow cockily, tilting his head to the side. „Is the big, bad gang leader afraid of a street rat now?“ He asked. „I thought you were so brave and strong. My Boss, the one that should be giving me orders. But I guess you aren't, hm?“

Kenny glared at him, his eyes filled with seething hate that seemed to burn through Mason's skull. „It's Bastiano's orders. You're supposed to obey me. I paid for you, you fucking asshole!“ 

Mason pretended to think on that for a moment, before sliding the safety slide back into place and putting his gun into the holster on his belt. He stretched out his arms a little, and watched as Kenny visibly relaxed, leaning against the wall for support. He caught Mason's eye, his gaze drifting down to the gun. 

„Why threaten me if you aren't gonna shoot?“

Mason didn't answer for a moment, only leaning against the opposite wall with crossed arms. He shrugged casually, so casually that Kenny seemed to think he was safe now. „Fine then. Be here again at 0100. With both of your guys.“ Kenny huffed and adjusted his tie, and Mason nodded curtly. 

He turned away, kicking off the wall and walking a few steps down the alleyway. He stopped walking for a moment, raising his head a little. Kenny was still waiting there, he knew that. He didn't understand the sudden attitude change. Mason smirked to himself, having to suppress the laughter bubbling in his throat. 

„Aren't you gonna ask why?“

There was a moment of silent hesitation, but he spoke up nonetheless.

„....why?“

Mason still had his back turned, hands shoved into his pockets by now. H heard Kenny adjust his stance, heard the incriminating click of a gun – for safety, he assumed. He hadn't been fast enough before. 

„Let me tell you about my Boss. He's an asshole. And I'm his favorite asshole to hire for jobs. He wouldn't give me away for 50.000 bucks, Kenny, that's way too low. But he's smart, you know? He likes tricking people. So why do you think he send you into this alleyway? To get a mere henchman's opinion on getting hired?“ Mason let out a low and bitter laugh. „Fuck, I wish he would. But he wouldn't, and he never will. You were tricked, nothing more.“ 

Mason grinned, throwing his head back with loud, bitter laughter.

„So like I said, Kenny....“

A gunshot rang through the alley, coming from behind both of them, as Mason turned his head to look at the gang leader as he fell to his knees, blood gushing from the wound in his chest.

„I'm not the stupid kid I used to be.“


	2. A Day Like Any Other

Mason sat perched up on the old couch, the old sheet they had used to cover all the holes and what was likely mold was already ripping up as well. He grimaced at the thought, but it wasn't like they had much else to go for. Their home was small, tiny even, an old apartment in the poorest part of town. 

They had one, almost claustrophobia-inducing bathroom, with a shower that regularly didn't work and had about two litres of warm water everyday. The tub was broken, a large tile already broken out and temporarily fixed with a plastic blanket. Their „living room“ was turned into his, his brother Melión's and Genevieve's room. Two wooden, and admittedly unsafe looking, bedsteads had been placed into the room – they didn't have money for anything else. They were placed right next to each other near the window, leaving barely any room for the tube TV they owned, and a closet with a broken off door. So, Mason was usually the one sleeping on their moldy couch.

The kitchen they had was arguably the largest room in their home, with a small dining table, some cabinets that had once been white, and a greasy stove where they cooked mainly pasta or tortilla. Their parents had a room too, of course, sharing one single bed together – and sharing the room with countless, useless boxes they had no room for and no idea what to do with them.

But Mason wouldn't trade it for anything – if it weren't for his siblings, who deserved so much more than they were getting. And, like usual, he fought for them again on this day. Blood dripped down Mason's chin from his bloody and broken nose, staining the sheet he was sitting on in a vibrant red. He didn't care about that, all he cared about was if Melión and Vieve were okay – he heard the door open and his head snapped up, immediately alarmed and tense. 

It was Meliòn, pressing a tissue to the small gash on his forehead with a grimace he tried to hide, but Mason could see right through him. He'd spent enough time as caretaker for his little siblings that he knew them in and out. He huffed and patted the spot next to him, watching as the twelve year old kid sat down without any objections. Mason sniffled, even if it hurt like hell, and wrapped his arm around his younger brother to pull him into his chest.

Melión obliged wordlessly and nuzzled his face into Mason's chest so hard it phsyically hurt his heart. It was painful to see his innocent little brother this hurt and vulnerable, and it got even worse when Melión spoke.

„Why us?“

His voice was wavery, so unsure and quiet that Mason almost didn't hear him talk at all. He sucked in a breath between his teeth and stared down at the bloody stains on the sheets in silence. Melión was one of the only people Mason cared for, along with Vieve, and he'd do anything for them if he had to. His parents had lost his respect a long, long time ago, basically the day Vieve had been born, when they hadn't even gained any money to support Melión and himself. 

Mason grimaced and put his face in Melión's hair with a small hum. He didn't know the answer to his brother's question, not directly at least. He had one answer, but it wasn't something he wanted to tell. So, he lied.

„I don't...know. It's just... that life turned out like this. For us. And we have to live through it now.“ Mason closed his eyes, gritting his teeth when he heard Melión start crying. It was quiet at first, little sniffles soon turning into heart-wrenching sobs as Melión pulled and tugged at Mason's sweater.

Mason bit his lip to keep quiet, holding Melión tigthly and trying to block out the sobs. It was heartbreaking to hear his brother cry like this, because of something they had no control over. Because of something their own parents did to them – but Melión didn't need to know about any of that. Mason would bear that knowledge, and protect his siblings from thr horrors of the world as best as he could, a job that his parents should've done for them all this time.

+++++++++++++++++++

Mason clutched his bag in his hand, throwing it over his shoulder with a huff. Melión had fallen asleep after watching about half a kids movie. Mason, despite hating those movies, suggested it to make his brother feel better, or at least distract him after crying like that. And now, he had other things to do. He'd have to grab Vieve from her elementary school, bring her back home as quickly as he could and then quickly run to the lower district streets, while getting undressed at that. He'd have to, or he'd be late to his usual 'meetings'.

He grabbed his keys from the rusty nail in the wall that they used to hang up keys, and jumped out the door. He locked it before he sprinted down the countless flights of stairs, and out of the apartment complex. 

The streets were grey, filled with drug addicts kneeling on the sidewalks and in badly lit aleyways. Some prostitutes were walking along side him, fishnets tights and short shirts with large cleavage to seduce all the men driving by, the ones that were just waiting to get STD's.

It pained him that he'd look like that soon. 

Mason hurried along the streets and grasped his backpack tightly, keeping his head held down so that he wouldn't draw attention towards himself. He didn't need any extra attention, not when he had to run down this street with Vieve again soon. Attention meant trouble, and trouble was the last thing Mason needed today. 

He ran all the way towards the elementary school - he was thankful for his endurance, or he would've collapsed about halfway. But, nevertheless, he felt like he couldn't breathe when he finally arrived, leaning against the red brick wall of the school building. It took a few moments before he regulated his breathing again, but he managed it – forcefully, at least.

Mason took one last, deep breath before pushing open the doors of the school. He walked along the halls of the school, staring at the walls that were littered with the student's artwork and photos.

His eyes found a painting of a tiger, colorful and bright, made by his little sister. „Vieve..“ He read out loud, allowing himself a small smile. Vieve loved to use colors on everything, even herself sometimes. Mason remembered the time Vieve came to him, face and hands full with green, pink and blue paint, holding up a drawing of three stick figures with colorful hair, and smiling so wide her cheeks must've hurt. 

„It's us!“ She had said proudly, waving around her little paper so Mason would actually look at it. 

He'd been 8 at that time, and despite the drawing being admittedly bad, he couldn't bear the thought of his sister loosing that bright smile. So he lied, praised her to heaven while silently resenting the fact that he sounded exactly like his father should've.

Mason snapped out of his thoughts and looked up when the bell rang. He shook his head and adjusted his backpack, before quickly running to where Vieve's classroom was. He slid across the corner, right when Vieve left her classroom with her head hanging low, tears bubbling in her eyes. 

Mason grimaced. This was the second time he had to comfort someone, despite being the absolute worst at it. He ran a hand through his hair and kneeled down in front of her, poking her head to make her look at him. He knew she loved whenever he appeared in her class to pick her up, but this time – it didn't work. When Vieve looked up to see him, she just started crying. No happy smile, not even a choked up greeting – nothing. Only a distraught 10 year old girl, holding her pink bag in her little fist. 

Mason scanned her for injuries, but there was nothing. No blood, no scraped knee and not even a bruise. He glanced at the clock on the wall with a grimace, he definitely didn't have time for this now. He knew he'd already be late, but he had to accept that now. He sighed and gently reached out to tug Vieve into his chest – just like Melión before her, she obliged and cuddled up to him, tiny sobs wracking her body and making her shake in his arms.

He waited, patiently, until Vieve had calmed down enough to be able to talk. He kept his arm around her, and made her sit on one of the tiny chairs in the hallway. „Why are you crying, V?“ He murmured as softly as he could, while Vieve sniffled and used her sleeves to wipe the rest of her tears. She kept her mouth shut and looked away, her cheeks puffed up and red. 

„Vieve.“ Mason sighed and looked at the clock again. „I need to know. I'm your brother, you can tell me.“

She looked up at him and shook her head, and the tears just welled up again. Mason frowned and wiped them away with the ball of his hand, while Vieve sniffled and crossed her arms in front of her chest. Mason hated to see her cry like this, but he couldn't do much if Vieve didn't tell him what was going on.

He took yet another look at the clock and shock went through him. He was royally fucked if he didn't get Vieve home right now and get to his goddamn meeting. He looked back at Vieve and weighed his options – if he was late, he'd get treated like a ragdoll, thrown around and beat up even worse than usual. 

But if he wanted to stop Vieve's crying, then he had to accept his not so good looking fate. And he just couldn't leave his sister. With a heavy sigh and a heavy heart, Mason stayed, and comforted his sister as best as he could, rubbing her back and nuzzling his face into her hair – even kissing her forehead.. He had accepted his fate, he had to – even if it was just for his siblings.


End file.
